Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. I don't own it. I said I don't. Also includes... ta da... some Angel.


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Chapter 2
What You Leave Behind

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Harry awoke bathed in a cold sweat the next morning. As he leaned against his pillow, trying desperately to catch his breath, the nightmare came back to him as though it were happening right before him.

"I have to stop having these dreams," Harry muttered to himself as he rose and dressed. He heard the sound of pans banging together below and the distant sound of voices, but he no longer cared. As he glanced at the calendar pinned to his wall, he saw how many marks he'd been missing. Usually, he ticked off every day that would bring him closer to Hogwart's. But it seemed as though he'd missed a week.

And so he did. Today, he was sixteen.

Footsteps approached from behind his bedroom door before a loud tap-tap-tap brought him from his thoughts. He opened the door to see his Uncle Vernon standing there, a look between anger and disgust on his face. "You have a visitor," he snapped, pointing one fleshy finger toward the stairs.

Harry ducked around him and took the steps down into the kitchen. Standing by the oven was his old Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Lupin. In the five weeks since he'd last seen him, Lupin's appearance had changed. His clothing was much neater than his old shabby trousers, and his shoes were still polished new.

"Hello, Harry," said Lupin in a warm voice, turning to look at him. "Happy Birthday."

Aunt Petunia stepped around Lupin with a look of intense bitterness on her face as she handed Uncle Vernon the morning paper and his usual cup of coffee. Taking one glance at Harry's face, Aunt Petunia turned reluctantly to the visitor. "Can I get you anything?" she asked in a tight voice.

Lupin shook his head kindly. "No, thank you, Mrs. Dursley. You enjoy your breakfast. I just wanted to speak to Harry in person. I think this is better than any old owl, wouldn't you say?"

Harry nodded and could feel a smile tugging at his lips. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"No, no," Lupin said, waving his hands. "Nothing is wrong. It's just that the Order feels that you have spent enough time in this house."

At this, Uncle Vernon dropped the spoon he was using to stir his coffee. Dudley was looking scornfully over his father's paper, his piggy little eyes narrowed. Aunt Petunia let out a tiny little laugh before hustling to the table, a frying pan in hand.

"When can I leave?" Harry asked eagerly. Ever since he found out why he had to stay at number four, Privet Drive every summer, it still did nothing to calm his anticipation to get out of the house.

"The guard will come tomorrow night," Lupin assured him, leaning against the oven as Aunt Petunia returned to the range top for the eggs. He turned to the Dursleys', now settling down to a perfect Wednesday morning breakfast. "I do believe that you will be out tomorrow evening, will you not?"

"We have a work dinner tomorrow night," Uncle Vernon replied, an edge to his voice. "We will be gone tomorrow night. Thankfully," he added nastily, misreading the look of elation on Harry's face.

"Your guard will meet you here, then," Lupin said softly. "It might be best to have all of your things packed. We will try and leave quickly. We don't want to cause any further problems to your aunt and uncle."

"See you then," Harry said, braving another smile. Lupin clasped his shoulder for a moment before retreating to the front yard. A loud clap told him that he had disapparated and hoped for a short second that it was away from the prying eyes of neighbors.

"Harry, your breakfast is getting cold," a soft voice said behind him. He turned to see Aunt Petunia hovering over his still full plate, with Dudley's little eyes hungrily eyeing the bacon and eggs.

With a sigh of relief, he retreated to the kitchen table and dug into his breakfast.

- - - - -

"You can't be serious."

"I am serious. Completely."

"You're seriously leaving for England tonight?"

"That I would be."

Buffy quickly dodged a thrust handed to her by Angel who quickly bounced on his heels and fell back, avoiding a well-placed kick by the Slayer.

"You can't be serious."

"I'm getting a vague sensation of deja-vu."

"Oh, all right. I just can't believe you going to Europe, just when you agreed to work with us."

"You don't need my help to run a law firm."

"You know that the law firm isn't any ordinary one."

"We covered that too. It's run by the Senior Partners, which is basically the same as hell beasties, right?"

Angel grunted as her arm made contact with his face before turning back and lunging, but she had quickly retreated.

"Do you really think teenagers will be any different?"

"I'm not sure. They know magic and I don't. That gives them an advantage, no?"

"But you said you were getting borrowed magic. What is that?"

"Just something I'm lent? I don't know. I hope they tell me how to use it too. It'd be a pity to waste the year away trying to figure out what my power can do."

"Hey, Buffy?"

"Yeah?"

"This is not a good idea."

Buffy stood up and watched as Angel slowly sat up, his hand touching his head.

"I know you have this pre-war ya-ya to get out, but you could lighten up on the rage. Why not beat on Faith?"

"Beat on Faith? Me? And not get any back in return? Besides, I don't know when I'll see you again."

"Buffy, we may never see each other again."

Buffy stopped and lowered her fists and moved, leaving Angel's right hook swinging wildly. "I know."

"Which is why we're spending some of your last hours in town kicking each other's asses, right?"

"Just seemed like the right thing to do," she replied as she took a towel and wiped off her face. "Angel, I..."

His hand gently clasped her shoulder. "I know, Buffy."

She turned to him. "Am I doing the right thing by going? I'm leading my girls to war, Angel. We could all be dead in months."

"I really hope that wasn't foresight."

"It wasn't," Buffy said softly as she sat down. Angel sat down on her other side.

"I know things haven't been easy for you since Spike died... but if you look at it this way, we've all died twice now. And you're still standing, still fighting..."

Buffy lowered her gaze. "I almost didn't make it during the last battle. If there wasn't a Slayer in England, I would have hesitated more. But this boy in England, he is really something isn't he?"

Angel shook his head and whistled. "My files have him as being probably the second bravest child I've ever known."

"I can feel it coming, Angel. I can feel the end. And it burns a little."

Angel gently touched her shoulder, but she rose and walked away. "In the end, if we survive this, I'm not going to fight anymore. I'm going to... to be done cooking. I'll be a cookie." She turned back to face him. "Because this is my last apocalypse. After this, I'm hanging up my cross and my stake."

"They could bronze them," Angel said musingly.

"Oh, a Slayer museum!" Buffy cried out. "Do you think it could happen?"

Angel chuckled and turned, packing up the instruments they used when working out. "It wouldn't surprise me."

"For some reason, my neither," Buffy replied, grabbing her sweatshirt as they retreated back upstairs. "We could even get Giles to run it... he'd be a fascinating curator, wouldn't you think?"

"The possibilities are endless."

"They really are."

- - - - -

Harry had just finished packing his trunk when he heard a soft knock on his door. He glanced up in surprise as Aunt Petunia stepped in.

"We'll be leaving shortly," she began in her brisk voice, her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the trunk, the broomstick lying next to it, and Hedwig's empty cage. "You will not..." her voice trailed off. "You know what you aren't supposed to do by now, I'm sure," she continued, biting her lip.

He glanced up at her and for the first time in his life, he had never seen her looking at him that way before. It was with almost a fond look that she sat down on the end of his bed, staring at him and his prized possessions around him. "I heard your godfather died," she said bluntly.

Harry turned to her, his jaw slackening. "I don't want to talk about it," he said, his voice harsher than he intended as he briskly locked his trunk before pulling out his wand. For a moment, Aunt Petunia blanched next to him, but desisted when he used the wand to clean out Hedwig's cage.

"I know you don't," she said softly. "I just want you to know that I understand what it's like to lose someone you love."

Harry glanced at her in surprise. She chose to wisely ignore it.

"When my sister died, even though she was who she was, she was still my sister. We still had many years together and her dying would not take away the fact she was my sister."

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry asked as he removed the calendar from the wall and tipped it into the garbage can.

"Because there is someone out there that wants to end the world, isn't there?"

Harry could feel the appreciation once again that Aunt Petunia was his mother's sister. Her eyes, usually cold and biting, were wide with fear. He smiled in what he hoped was a comforting way and for the first time that he could remember, he took her hand. "Not if I can stop it first."

She was staring at his forehead again and didn't seem to hear him. It was only the roars from Uncle Vernon downstairs that shook her from her stupor as she rose and left wordlessly.

Harry moved to his window to see the three Dursley's, all oblivious to the terrible fate that awaited them if he didn't succeed, all happily going on their merry way, as though nothing else was wrong in the world.

There was a bitter taste in his mouth again as he pulled from the window and checked his watch.

It was time to put his fears and his pride aside, and take the plunge. He was going to have to tell all about the prophecy.

- - - - -

The sun had barely set as a large group of women, with four men dispersed through the crowd, moved as one group toward a small chartered plane, lead by two women.

Buffy and Faith walked side-by-side as they approached the stairs, then stood back as the other girls boarded, all talking excitedly about going to Europe. Faith turned to Buffy and then boarded. Buffy hung back with Giles, Xander and Andrew.

"Are you sure you two want to travel?" Buffy asked in a low voice. "I'd understand if you wanted to stay out of this one."

"What, and leave my two favorite women in England alone?" Xander asked, looking insulted. "I want to join this magic group as much as you do. I've always backed you up. What kind of friend would I be to hold back now?"

Buffy felt her eyes moisten before throwing her arms around Xander, feeling an overwhelming sense of thankfulness.

"Um, I figured I'd just go along because you're cooler than that vampire guy," Andrew stuttered behind her.

"Get on the plane, Andrew," Giles said sternly as he, too, boarded. Andrew scampered behind him, leaving Buffy and Xander. He gently squeezed her arm for a moment, then followed the other two.

Buffy slowly climbed the steps, taking in the Los Angeles skyline after dark. She'd seen it so much lately, she'd forgotten how beautiful it was. She wished she could take it with her, because she knew she'd miss it.

With a heavy lump in her throat, Buffy turned and stepped through the doorway. "Here we go," she whispered.

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To be continued...